Grape Island Waka

I finally managed to pull off this Boston Harbor Islands camping trip I've been talking about for years. Pati, Sarah, and I headed to Grape Island over Memorial Day weekend, semi-backpacking. It was awesome, featuring ferry rides, campfires on the beach, an awe-inspiring huge flock of sharp-tailed sparrows, crazily shell-filled beaches, peat and other wetlandness, watching tide and stars, and heavy jugs of water.

I also continued my recent actually-writing-poems thing:

The same sun shines down:
Rice stalks wither in dry fields,
Sweat drips past my eyes.
Still now meadow flowers bud;
In the streamlet minnows gleam.

---

That sound: a wave's crash,
sudden, on a rocky shore?
Here, the longed-for sea?
No. Sparrows: a sumac full
rise as one. Soft wings beat strong.